Hermione's Hair
by jen3
Summary: A short introspective dealing with how Hermione feels about her most famous feature.


A/N: I think this is pretty self-explanatory. Lupin beta read, and I sincerely thank her for taking the time to do so. Thanks to those who have me on author alert; when I saw that people actually _had_ me on author alert, it made my day/week/month. 

As usual, I disclaim everything.

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Hermione's Hair

Hermione Granger, hearing the magical alarm clock ring outside the curtains of her four-poster, rolled over and grumbled, wishing for another hour of sleep (or at least two more minutes). However, she knew that no one would or could fulfill her desire, and that the other girls in her dorm were coming to the same realization as she heard the sounds of curtains swishing and feet hitting the floor. Sighing, Hermione followed suit, exchanging a mumbled "good morning" with her roommates as she grabbed a bathrobe and headed toward the bathroom. Lavender and Parvati were close behind her. 

She was glad that both of them hated mornings as much as she did; she absolutely despised them, whether they were spent at Hogwarts or not. Sure, there were more interesting things waiting once the dreariness took leave from her eyes, but there was still this to contend with.

Soon, the three had reached the 1-4 years Gryffindor girls' bathroom, and each occupied a separate stall. Unlike the prefects' bathrooms, there was no tub, just basic shower stalls. Hermione preferred showers anyway, as they were quicker and left more time for breakfast. 

In what seemed like no time, Hermione was walking back toward her room, her hair wet, carrying her pajamas in a bundle in one arm and making sure her robe stayed in the proper position with the other (something that she didn't entirely trust magic to do). When she arrived, she opened the door, dropped her pajamas on the floor near her bed, and pulled some clothing out of the bureau. After dressing herself, she took out her book bag and checked to make sure that everything was in order (it was). Then, she turned toward the mirror.

This was, perhaps, the reason that she hated mornings. She was Hermione Granger, the most studious girl in her year; she could transfigure anything put in front of her, brew most potions on demand, and cast almost any spell put before her that had ever been mentioned in her presence.... And yet, the task of standing in front of a mere mirror daunted her.

Her face was alright, she supposed; it was nothing to be ashamed of. Ever since she had shrunk those infernal front teeth, she certainly felt much better about herself. Her eyes were a plain brown, but she had grown attached to them; her lips were lips; her nose wasn't big or small, but it was a decent nose. No, it wasn't her face that bothered her.

She glanced off to the left and watched Lavender style her short, light brown hair; it was shiny and silky, and lay perfect and flat over her ears until it ended at her chin. Parvati stood to her right, braiding her long dark hair, arms reaching behind her in an odd position to accomplish this.

And then, there was Hermione.

Though her hair was mostly wet, what had begun to dry was already looking thick and bushy. Soon, she knew, it would all be like that. A tinge of doubt passed over her; it was only hair, after all. Shouldn't she do something about it? She had for the Yule Ball; it had looked good then. She didn't always have to be plain, boring, and studious Hermione….

"Hermione," Lavender, who had finished with her mirror, asked, "want me to do your hair?"

Admittedly, she hesitated. It would come out nice. She would get looks in the Great Hall, the looks she had gotten at the Ball that had made her extremely uncomfortable, yet strangely confident...but was that what she really wanted? Was she the same person that night when she left her hair behind? She had friends - great friends - who were there for her, even if they were just boys. She liked studying and getting good grades; who else could say that they had achieved a 112% on their charms final exam for three years in succession? Walking down the hall with her bushy-haired head bent over a large bag of books (i.e. how she spent a large portion of her day) wasn't very glamorous, but she always knew where she was going and what she was doing. She liked who she was.

Hermione almost smiled in spite of herself. Did hair really mean all that much? Did she really let appearance have that much influence over who she was inside? No...but compromising herself in exchange for a look of pained shock from Ron was only worth doing once a year, at most.

"No thanks, Lavender."

Lavender shrugged and disappeared into the hallway, Parvati close behind. Hermione took one last look into the mirror, and smiled at the brown eyes, normal nose and mouth, and thick, bushy, brown, unmanageable hair. 

Actually, it was just for the hair.

Review…you know you want to.


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